


Kindred 7: The Sergeant

by torturingtaylor (itzaimster)



Series: Kindred Series [7]
Category: Hanson
Genre: Brothers, Clones, Conspiracy, Gen, Genetics, Imprisonment, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itzaimster/pseuds/torturingtaylor
Summary: The clones are rounded up, but not by the labs.





	1. Chapter 1

Taylor’s heart was already racing when he came to. He could barely make out the shadows around him, and there was something moving barely inches from his face.  
He tried to stay as still as possible until he could figure out where he was. He could hear the steady hum of a truck on the road and it didn’t take long to figure out that he was in it. The catch was… he was in the bed.  
When he rolled over onto his back he heard metal on metal, but at the same time realised his hands were tied. Awkwardly trying not to roll on top of them he began to discern something around his mouth and that the metal sound he’d heard belonged to heavy chains around his ankles.  
His heartrate only increasing, he looked to his right. Jesse was in the same position but still out cold. He didn’t remember passing out and he didn’t remember Jesse going down. He remembered Jesse giving them a run for their money. He remembered being cornered and not being able to make it back to the front door of the house. He must have gone down first but he couldn’t remember how.  
He closed his eyes as he tried not to panic. Not being able to remember what happened meant that he couldn’t remember if Natalie and the kids had been left alone. Knowing some of the details of what had happened to Chelsea Musgrove, he was desperately trying not to entertain the notion. But the thoughts were there all the same.  
Before he could start to hyperventilate because of them, he heard Jesse move and his eyes shot across to him. It wasn’t long before Jesse figured out his predicament and locked eyes with Taylor. Taylor didn’t find the look at all reassuring.  
Jesse rolled onto his side as he tried to see down to his ankles. Taylor heard the chains moving just like his own had. They were anchored to the front of the truck bed and one strong tug from Jesse proved that they wouldn’t be dislodged.  
Unfortunately the loud clatter the movement had made caused the driver of the truck to brake.  
Taylor’s brow furrowed as he closed his eyes again, just praying this wasn’t going to end with the two of them being buried somewhere in the desert. They certainly had no way to fight back at this point.  
He took deep breaths while Jesse remained frozen, listening as the truck pulled off onto gravel. They continued to drive a little while longer before the truck came to a halt and they heard both doors open. Taylor could feel himself shaking as they heard heavy boots walking down either side, before the cover was very suddenly lifted from over them.  
Taylor squinted, expecting light, but he only saw stars in the night sky. Jesse immediately tried to sit up before the man closest to him grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back into the truck. Taylor let out a muffled exclamation as Jesse just groaned. He didn’t dare try to sit up himself.  
His eyes darted between the two, wondering what they were going to do. He could see the one over Jesse’s side messing with something out of his view, but nothing was said and whatever it was made no noise.  
After a quick look to his accomplice, the man reached over to hold a dark cloth over Jesse’s nose and mouth. Instantly panicking Taylor tried to push himself back, before feeling a rough hand grab him by the shoulder. Jesse attempted to struggle but when the man held the back of his head fast it wasn’t long before he passed out again. Once Jesse had collapsed the man locked eyes with Taylor, sending his own wide in fright.  
He was held in place by the man that held his shoulder as the other advanced, putting more chemical onto the cloth before covering his face too.  
“Спать.”  
Taylor tried not to breathe it in, but he quickly ran out of breath and didn’t have a choice. 

Carey jolted when he woke up, immediately feeling a pounding headache. As he groaned and put his hands to his head to counter the pain two things became apparent.  
One, there were shackles on his wrists. Two, Mark was right beside him.  
“Are you okay?” his brother was asking, though he could barely hear him.  
“Headache,” was all he could get out.  
He felt Mark rub his shoulder before hearing what sounded like heavy footsteps. He looked up to see a man – dressed like the ones who’d been at the apartment, but who he didn’t recognise – walk by with barely a smirk in his direction. Then Carey realised he was on the ground. The metallic, _moving_ ground…  
“Where are we?” his eyes began to dart around the space.  
“Don’t know,” Mark replied, sitting back against the metal wall, “but I think we’ve been out for a long time.”  
Carey soon realised Mark was wearing the same shackles, which were also on their ankles. It became obvious that they wouldn’t be able to stand if they ever wanted to. The chains weren’t long enough.  
Mark was also missing his shirt. Instead, there was a large white bandage on his left shoulder.  
“Is your arm okay?” he grunted out.  
“Yeah they patched me up,” Mark looked down at it, “gladly, I was not awake for it. But now I’m fucking cold.”  
Carey looked to the right to where three more men were standing about ten yards away. Whatever they were in, it was big. Then it clicked.  
“Mark are we in a-“  
“No,” Mark cut him off, “we are not in a plane. I swear.”  
“Oh God we’re in a plane!” Carey’s eyes squeezed shut and he covered his head, “I’m gonna be sick.”  
“We’re not in a plane! Think of it as a submarine. Or a land-borne blimp or something.”  
“Neither of those are better,” Carey muttered, refusing to open his eyes again.  
“Then pretend we’re in the back of a really big truck. Come on, we don’t have time for this shit.”  
“Oh I’m so sorry my rational phobias are putting a damper on your day,” Carey looked up with a scowl.  
“That’s better,” Mark mused.  
Carey grit his teeth but took Mark’s lead and decided to try and stay distracted.  
“What have you worked out?” he asked, figuring Mark had been awake longer.  
“That we’re not alone.”  
“What?” Carey frowned.  
Mark nodded toward the opposite side of the cabin. There were a number of large tarpaulins draped over conspicuous mounds, and it didn’t take him long to figure out there were two more set aside by them.  
“Holy shit,” he breathed, “what is this?”  
“No one’s talking American,” Mark eyed the men to the right, “but this has to be government. They’re armed to the teeth and we’re not exactly going anywhere.”  
Carey took the moment to study the chains. They were anchored behind them to the side wall. The cuffs were locked with both padlocks and zip ties and his heart sank when he realised Mark was right. These people had been meticulous.  
“Watch out,” Mark suddenly sat up straighter making Carey look to the right again.  
Two of the men were making their way over. Seeing bottles in their hands he assumed they’d keep walking by, but when they stopped his heart almost did too.  
“Напиток,” one of them ordered, holding a bottle toward Carey.  
Carey shot Mark a worried glance.  
“I think they want you to drink it,” Mark suggested, before flinching as the other man held one out to him too.  
He took his before Carey did.  
“НАПИТОК!” the first ordered, getting impatient.  
Carey took the bottle, watching as Mark took the cap from his. He quickly smelled it before downing a little.  
“It’s just water,” he confirmed for Carey’s benefit.  
Carey sighed in relief before doing as he’d been told. The men talked amongst themselves as they watched them, but the twins couldn’t make anything out.   
“What do you think is going on?” Carey asked just above his breath between gulps.  
“I think it’s no coincidence,” Mark replied, “and I think I have an idea of who else is here.”  
“But why? Do you think Morris is behind this? Is this a Russo thing?”  
“I don’t know,” Mark’s eyes were wandering, “but if it were Russo I think we’d be dead already.”  
He flinched back as one of the men stomped his boot. The sound created a loud echo and it had gotten the desired effect – Mark shut up. The man leant over to retrieve the bottle from him as Carey rushed to drink more of his before the same thing happened.  
“These guys are getting on my nerves,” Mark said between his teeth as they laughed over them.  
“Feel free to take them down anytime,” Carey snapped back as his bottle was taken, before gritting his own teeth as they hit some minor turbulence.  
“Care,” Mark caught his attention again just in time for him to recover.  
His own back straightened when he saw the needles the men were fitting into the injectors.   
“Looks like they only woke us up to hydrate us,” Mark muttered, his eye in the same place.  
“Tell us where we’re going,” Carey looked the man that stood over him in the eye, “what do you want with us?! Where are you taking us?!”  
He raised his hands to deflect it but suddenly two of them were on top of him. One took hold of the chains that held his wrists pulling them downward while the one holding the needle grabbed him by the hair. Mark couldn’t help as the drugs were administered to the side of his neck.  
Backing off the moment it was done, Carey held the wound with a grimace before they went for Mark as well.  
“Seriously guys, how hard is it to answer a few ques- OW!” Mark yelped as the same thing happened to him.  
“This is not good,” Carey stated the obvious as the men walked away chuckling to themselves.  
He was already starting to feel dizzy.  
“Here’s hoping next time we wake up we’ll get a few more puzzle pieces,” Mark was looking to the left, resisting the urge to pull aside the next tarpaulin.  
He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what – or who – was under there. But he debated that his arm was currently strong enough to do it anyhow.  
Carey was the first to go down, falling back against the wall. Seeing what had happened, Mark curled in on himself so he wouldn’t do the same. His last view was of the tarp being thrown over his brother again.

The next person awake was Alex. The first thing he registered was a pounding headache, and the second was that he wasn’t wearing his glasses.  
He didn’t bother trying to sit up. It was when he pulled his arms into his chest to hug himself that he felt the shackles on his wrists.  
He soon heard footsteps coming toward him and he looked up to only see a blur.   
“Вставай!” he felt a boot kick at his leg.  
He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the man.   
“Сядь!” he tried again, a little more scorn in his tone.  
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Alex’s voice came out small.  
“Sit up,” a thick accent ordered, the tone suddenly more accepting.  
Alex debated staying down, but knew they eventually wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. So he forced himself up into a sit before leaning back against the metal wall.  
“Drink this.”  
He frowned as he made out something being held in front of him, before gingerly reaching for it. He could feel that it was a drink bottle and his eyes were already getting a little clearer.  
He couldn’t deny that he was thirsty so he had a quick drink hoping it would help the headache.  
“Это один слабый,” he heard them start to talk over him.  
“Это не имеет значения.”  
After he’d had a second drink he felt the bottle being taken away. He wanted to ask where he was and where he was going, but he also just didn’t care anymore.  
He didn’t have anything to go back to.  
The needle to the neck took him by surprise because he couldn’t see it coming. He didn’t have time to panic before he felt it taking effect.  
Resisting the urge to ask what was happening, he just hoped he could sleep a lot longer than the first time it had happened.


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Carey awoke he could feel the shackles right away. He also felt something around his chest and something over his head. He immediately reached up to remove the canvas hood, and when it came free he gasped in a breath.  
He’d been sitting on a bench seat in what was obviously the back of either a truck or a van – the strap around his chest seemed to be there purely to keep him upright. The shackles were now anchored beneath him. But his gasp had been at seeing how many others were in the same situation.  
He could pick Taylor and Jesse by both their clothes and their wedding rings. They were sitting across from him. Mark was still shirtless to his left. But of the other three he couldn’t tell if Alex were there or not.  
Thankfully it wasn’t long before he heard a groan from Mark’s direction. He tried to reach up to remove the hood from his head as well but his hands just couldn’t make it.  
“Mark?”  
“Yeah,” he grunted in response before slowly pulling it off himself.  
“You were right,” Carey admitted, “we’re not alone.”  
“You haven’t been for a while,” Carey jumped as a voice came from opposite.  
His eyes darted to Jesse, who quickly pulled his own hood off.  
“How long have you been awake?” Carey frowned.  
“A while,” Jesse admitted, eyeing the two bodies to Carey’s right, “just wasn’t sure we were alone back here.”  
“Do you know what’s going on?” Mark was squinting as he struggled to wake himself up.  
Jesse shook his head before looking to his right, realising Taylor was beside him.  
“They’re foreign,” Carey tried to keep him on task as Mark eyed the back door, “they attacked us in Chicago.”  
“We were taken from Taylor’s house,” Jesse admitted, looking over the person to his left, “they didn’t say a word, but they looked military.”  
“Same here,” Mark took a deep breath and adjusted the chains, “huge fuckers. Not afraid to shoot.”  
“That what happened there?” Jesse nodded to his shoulder.  
“How did you guess?”  
“I count two too many,” Carey went back to the topic, “there’s too many of us here.”  
“My guess?” Jesse’s brow rose as they saw Taylor’s hands moving, “you’re about to meet Keandre and Damien.”  
“Who?” Mark scowled, looking to his twin for an answer.  
“Keandre was the French one,” Carey frowned, “but who’s Damien? And how did Keandre even get here?!”  
“We don’t even know where ‘here’ is,” Mark pointed out.  
“He was in Tulsa,” Jesse confirmed, “he came looking for Taylor.”  
Taylor grunted when he heard his name, forcing himself to pull the hood from his head but falling back against the side wall with the effort it had taken.  
“Morning sunshine,” Mark was staring him down from directly across.  
“Where are we?” Taylor managed to get out, closing his eyes again.  
“We’re moving,” Jesse informed him.  
“Still?”  
“You guys were awake on the plane too?” Carey jumped on.  
“Plane?” Taylor frowned.  
“What plane?” Jesse demanded.  
“We took a plane to get to wherever we are,” Mark informed them, “which means we could be fucking anywhere in the world by now. We’ve been drugged every leg of the way.”  
“So have we,” Jesse gave Taylor a glance.  
“You didn’t answer who Damien was,” Carey reminded him, “is he the one you saw in Nevada?”  
“Yeah,” Jesse cleared his throat, “though we met him again in Dallas.”  
“Who is he?” Mark’s eyes narrowed.  
“He works for the labs,” Carey filled in the blank.  
“He’s one of ‘them’,” Jesse added.  
Mark hesitated before sighing.  
“Guess that rules out Morris,” his brow rose.  
“They could have turned on him,” Carey suggested.  
“No I don’t think Morris is behind this one,” Jesse’s eyes were wandering, “it’s too tactical.”  
“Of course you would know, soldier boy,” Mark was glaring, “why’d you have to keep that secret? You fucked us all over with that.”  
“How is it anyone’s business?” Taylor defended with a frown as Jesse just stared Mark down.  
“It _is_ my business when I get taken as a fucking hostage because they’re trying to track him down,” Mark seethed, “and it wasn’t just because he went on some bloodthirsty rampage trying to save _your_ ass, it was because he lied to them straight up!”  
“I never lied,” Jesse’s expression hadn’t changed.  
“You omitted, same fucking thing,” Mark scorned.  
“If that’s the way you want to see it.”  
“There’s no other way to see it! You pissed them off and they took it out on us!” Mark’s voice rose, “Carey and Emma were lucky to get away with their lives!”  
“Are you done?” Jesse’s brow rose.  
“No! You’re an asshole!” Mark scowled before sitting back, “now I’m done.”  
Carey grit his teeth at the tension. He could see Mark’s side of the argument but he didn’t want to fight with Jesse. Especially now of all times when they might need to work together.  
“What I did in the Middle East was classified,” Jesse began to calmly explain, “and I’m not just talking normal government-classified, I’m talking the most highly decorated officials of the US Army, Navy , Air Force, the CIA, FBI, NSA and Secret Service didn’t know what we were doing. We were as off-grid as you could possibly get. If I’m not authorised to give mission specifics to those people, what makes you think I’d give them to somebody like Morris?”  
In the pause that followed, he knew he had everyone’s attention. Everyone that was awake.  
“For as much of a pain in ass as Morris has been, he is not important on the grand scale of American national security. But what’s up here?” he tapped his temple, “is. I’ll be damned if I give him access to it for the sake of comparison of mental stability. This is above all of you.”  
“Did he drug you in the labs?” Taylor was suddenly worried, “when you came for us?”  
“Yes,” Jesse admitted outright, “but I don’t think he got anything from it.”  
“How? I couldn’t help myself,” Taylor insisted, “I gave away my whole family, and there’s nothing more important to me.”  
“Training,” Jesse offered.  
“Alex just said you were in the army,” Mark seemed to have worked out that this was above his paygrade.  
“I started there. It’s where I was recruited,” Jesse confirmed before his eyes shot to the left.  
Carey and Mark followed them to see the clone at the end of their row removing his hood. Neither of them recognised him.  
“Keandre?” Taylor realised, “are you okay?”  
He was staring down at the hood and hadn’t looked up yet.   
“Keandre?” Jesse tried.  
“Yes,” he responded without looking up.  
“So that’s the French one?” Mark asked.  
“Wait until you see what else sets him apart,” Taylor hinted.  
“Head,” Keandre said before a groan, leaning forward to put it in his hands.  
“Yeah we’ve all been there,” Jesse assured, “it’ll pass.”  
“Two to go,” Mark said under his breath.

Damien was the next to wake up. It put everyone besides Jesse and Keandre on edge. Keandre because he didn’t know who he was, but Jesse because he did.  
Once Damien realised he wasn’t alone, it took a moment to comprehend who he was with.  
“Oh no,” he seemed to lose his breath.  
“Oh yeah,” Mark countered, “welcome to the club.”  
“No, no, no!” Damien grit his teeth, pulling at the shackles as if he were trying to dislodge them from their anchor.  
“So how does it feel to be inside the fish bowl this time?” Jesse had been staring him down the whole time.  
Damien continued to fight against the restraints, causing Keandre to try and lean away from him while he just watched. When he realised it was pointless fighting the chains he tried to find where the strap around him ended.  
“It’s not gonna work,” Jesse offered, “we’ve already tried. You’re stuck with us.”  
“Where are we?” Damien demanded, addressing Jesse directly, “who has us?!”  
“God he looks like Colin,” Mark frowned.  
“I see what you mean,” Carey agreed.  
“We don’t know,” Jesse responded, “like he said, welcome to the club.”  
Damien pursed his lips before looking toward the front of the vehicle. There was no window or grate separating them from the front so it was impossible to see who was driving.   
“You okay?” Jesse turned to Taylor, realising he’d gone quiet.  
“Nothing about this is okay,” Taylor’s eyes narrowed as if it had been a trick question.  
“I wasn’t asking about this, I was asking about you.”  
“Then the answer is still no,” Taylor shrugged, “I want to know what happened back in Tulsa.”  
“What do you mean?” Carey asked, trying to ignore Damien’s fretting beside him.  
“I don’t know if they left my family alone,” Taylor explained, “the two of us were outside when they came. I don’t know if they went inside or not.”  
“Why? Why would they?” Carey frowned.  
“You haven’t seen the news,” Jesse realised aloud, staring at him.  
“What news?” Mark asked, the same time Carey asked “what do you mean?”  
“They’re looking for him,” Taylor shot Jesse a glance.  
“Who?” Mark frowned.  
“Everybody.”  
“They… or someone,” Jesse amended, “someone killed Chelsea. I found her when I escaped the labs.”  
“That was not us,” Damien insisted.  
“Are you sure?” Mark demanded, “I bet you don’t know everything they do there.”  
“I have a vested interest,” Damien scorned, “I get briefed on all outside missions.”  
“Jesse I’m sorry,” Carey was frowning, “but… how?”  
“Care,” Mark frowned at him.  
“I need to know,” Carey insisted, “what if they went looking for me in LA first? Before Chicago?”  
Jesse’s eyes darted between the twins, suddenly debating if he should tell the truth or not. Making Carey even more worried about Emma seemed pointless.  
But he didn’t want to lie either.  
“She was beaten to death,” Taylor answered for him when his pause took too long, “they found her on the bed covered in blood, with Jesse’s prints all over the place.”  
“Of course they were all over the place, we were living there,” Jesse scorned.  
“Who found her?” Carey was still frowning.  
“The cops,” Taylor answered again, “Jesse is officially one of America’s Most Wanted. I’ve already been called in to the Tulsa PD to have my ID checked to verify I wasn’t him.”  
“So it would have only been a matter of time before they called us too,” Mark realised.  
“And it’s going to look even worse because we’re not there,” Carey added, “you said you don’t know if these people did it or not?”  
“It wasn’t us,” Damien cut in again.  
“We heard you the first time,” Mark scorned.  
“There was nothing left by the time I got there evidence-wise,” Jesse revealed, “and the clean-up was professional. My bet is on these guys. It was definitely not a random home invasion.”  
“Which is why I want to know what happened after we passed out in Tulsa,” Taylor amended.  
“Why would they go after the women? It doesn’t make sense,” Mark shrugged.  
“It was either to send a message, or she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Jesse considered.  
They all fell suddenly silent as they felt the vehicle brake. As it turned a couple of slow corners, Carey’s eyes went to the last clone.  
“Is that definitely Alex?” he asked, trying to keep himself distracted.  
“Yes,” Jesse had recognised his clothes.  
“Without Colin Reis there’s no one else it could be,” Damien muttered under his breath.  
“You sure about that?” Mark raised a brow, “cos we were told there were only twelve embryos and that five had died. Now I didn’t make it through high school but I’m pretty sure that math doesn’t add up.”  
“Who told you there were only twelve?” Damien frowned, confused.  
Before anyone could respond, the vehicle came to a halt. They immediately heard boots heading for the back door.  
“Everybody stay calm, no matter what,” Jesse cautioned.  
“No matter what?” Mark scoffed before the doors opened to blinding light.


	3. Chapter 3

Mark landed hard on his hands and knees when he was pulled from the truck, letting out a yell at the pain in his shoulder. Carey landed on his feet behind him.  
“Mark?!”  
“I’m okay,” he grunted, sitting back onto his knees.  
“Вставай,” the man over him ordered, grabbing him by the hair to pull him back to his feet.  
“For fuck’s sake I don’t know what you’re saying!” Mark exclaimed as another one took hold of the chain joining his wrists and pulled him forward.  
He stumbled, not having much tread between his ankles. But he soon realised Carey was attached behind him.  
They all were.  
“Это один не спит.“  
“Разбуди его.“  
Mark grit his teeth as one of them took hold of his arm as another disappeared into the back of the truck. Taylor leant back away from him while Jesse stared as he pulled the hood from Alex’s head and began trying to wake him up. For a moment Jesse worried he wouldn’t be able to, but Alex’s eyes soon began to flutter. As soon as the man had him awake enough to comprehend anything he leant down and detached the anchor from Alex’s shackles.   
“Alex you okay?” Jesse checked as soon as he’d left again.  
“Jesse?” he frowned, recognising his accent.  
“Yeah we’re all here,” Jesse suddenly realised he couldn’t see very well, “they’re going to pull us out of this truck, just watch your footing okay?”  
Damien was the next to half fall out, soon followed by Keandre who was the only one to take a quick look around once he was outside. They were in some kind of loading dock and surrounded by more of the men in vests. All of them with their eyes on the clones, and all of them heavily armed.  
Taylor followed Keandre, focusing on not tripping on the chains. Jesse helped Alex down before focusing on anything else. Mark was still stuck at the head of the line with his chain still being held firm.  
“Вперед!“ the man suddenly announced, making Carey, Taylor and Alex all jump.  
He began to lead Mark forward. The chain gang was forced to follow.   
“Why do I feel like we’re about to be executed?” Taylor said under his breath, just loud enough so he knew Jesse would hear.  
“It would be a waste of resources,” he countered, eyeing off the hardware one of the men walking beside him was carrying.  
Taylor had recognised at least one of them as the man that had been on his porch in Tulsa. Carey had already recognised both who’d been in Mark’s apartment. Mark was keeping a careful eye on the one who’d shot him but he barely bothered making eye contact.  
They were led through a set of double doors which were promptly locked behind them. Only three armed men came with them. They appeared to be in a short corridor with a window to the right and a bench seat to the left with enough room for ten. Predictably, this is where they were led. Behind each space there was a metallic fixture on the wall, and the moment Mark sat down he felt a steel band go around his neck to hold him in place. The same thing soon happened to Carey as the third man waited at the back of the line for them to work two at a time.  
“How can we be sure this has nothing to do with Morris?” Taylor looked to Jesse over his shoulder, again trying to distract himself from what was happening to the first two in line.  
“We can’t,” Jesse shrugged, his eye on the window where a woman wearing glasses was staring back at them, “but it’s not his style.”  
“Заткнись!“ Jesse was suddenly warned by the man standing aside Alex.  
“Они не понимают,” Keandre had turned to him, taking Taylor by surprise.  
“What language is that?” Taylor frowned.  
“They are Russian,” Keandre responded, watching the gunman in case he’d take his order further.  
“So what is he saying?”  
“He just wants us to be quiet,” Jesse offered.  
“You know Russian?” Taylor’s brow rose.  
“A little.”  
A clatter of metal distracted them as it was Damien’s turn to sit down, soon followed by Keandre. Once they were all seated the woman disappeared from the window. A door to the left opened and she made her way through, clicking her pen and focusing on her clipboard.  
“Marcus Miller,” her voice was clear.  
“Present,” he responded, sizing her up.  
“Он выделяется,” a gunman to his left spoke up.  
“Это шрам,” she responded, “он не может быть никакой пользы для нас.”  
Mark’s brow furrowed, knowing they were talking about him. The gunman took hold of his chin and turned his head so they could study the scar.  
“How long have you had this?” she asked him.  
“Twenty years,” he replied, wondering why it mattered.  
“You never considered lazer surgery to correct it?”  
“Couldn’t afford it,” he frowned, now even more confused.  
“Обратитесь к хирургу, когда мы сделали здесь. Спросите, если он будет слишком много работы,” she gave the gunman a nod before he let Mark’s chin go.  
“Can you tell us why we’re here?” Carey asked her, just glad to find someone who spoke English, “what do you people want with us?”  
“You are with the government,” she looked Carey up and down before focusing on her clipboard again, “within a specific research department.”  
“Not the American government,” Damien countered, “I was abducted while I slept. I wasn’t told to pack a bag this time.”  
“You must be Damien,” she came to stand in front of him as she flicked through pages.  
Carey could see profiles on the ones she discarded, including what looked like their lab photos.  
“We do not have a last name on file for you.”  
“That’s because I don’t have one,” Damien responded, his breathing heavying.  
“You don’t have a last name?” Carey turned his head.  
“You were raised in the Nevada laboratories of the American research contingent,” the woman appeared to have found his profile, “from but a child. Your travel has been limited between each base of operations. Your tasks failed to include the project that you were a part of until two years ago. Is that correct?”  
“What do you want?” he asked between his teeth, again trying to fit his hands through the cuffs on his wrists.  
“I want to pick your brain,” she offered him a smile, “you know more than any of your friends here. You might be very helpful for us.”  
“And why would I tell you anything?” his voice lowered.  
“You’ll be given incentives,” she wasn’t bothered by his reaction at all.  
She moved back to Carey as she flicked through the profiles.  
“You are…?” she began, pausing as she tried to choose.  
Carey frowned. He hadn’t thought it would be that hard.  
“Carey Miller,” she shot a glance in Mark’s direction, “one of the surviving twins.”  
“The only twins here,” Mark assured.  
“An A grade student all through your life, GPA 97 and above…” she didn’t seem impressed, “studied both human and marine biology. Это можно было бы помочь нам также.”  
“Why do they have all this?” Mark frowned, talking to himself.  
“Keeping steady jobs until recently. Only ever in trouble with the law if your brother was involved.”  
Mark grunted at that as Carey shot him a glance. The woman looked Carey over again, her eyes settling on his wedding ring.  
“And recently married,” she wrote an addition to the profile, “to Emma, I assume.”  
“Tell me you people didn’t hurt her,” Carey stared her down, “tell me you left her alone.”  
“We had no reason to,” she replied without eye contact before moving down to Keandre.  
“Что-то не так с его глазами,” she’d paused, staring at him.  
The nearest gunman stepped forward and took hold of his hair, tilting his head back. He barely reacted.  
“Your eyes are different,” the woman spoke to him directly.  
He didn’t respond.  
“Do you understand?” she frowned.  
“Он ношения линз,” the gunman observed.  
“Take them out,” she ordered.  
Keandre just frowned. Taylor was watching closely, having already guessed what they wanted.  
“I know you understand at least some of what I am saying,” she scorned, “взять их.”  
Keandre took a deep breath and raised his hands as if in surrender.  
“Отпустите их,” the woman indicated his hands.  
“What’s going on?” Carey couldn’t see past Damien’s head.  
The gunman near Alex came forward with a set of keys. In seconds he’d released Keandre’s wrists. He kept his hands raised.  
“And my neck,” he was still looking her in the eye.  
She gave the gunman a nod and he stepped forward again to unlock the collar. Keandre waited until he’d stepped back before he leant himself forward.  
He didn’t know how long he’d been in transit, but he could feel that they’d been in there too long already.  
When they were finally out the woman held the clipboard in front of him so he could relinquish them.  
“Он выделяется слишком,” the second gunman frowned.  
“Он может быть покрыт,” the woman stepped back so that Keandre could be restrained again.  
She waited until the locks were in place, taking the time to move the lenses into her pen lid.  
“Keandre Moreau. A delinquent as a teen. Emancipated from your step-father before finishing high school,” she began her speech, “since then you’ve held over twenty jobs in multiple industries, along with just as many girlfriends… and boyfriends.”  
Both Taylor and Jesse flinched at that.  
“The first time you left your home country of France was barely a couple of weeks ago, when you travelled to Tulsa, Oklahoma in search of…”  
She took a step to the side.  
“Taylor Hanson,” she smiled down at him as she turned the page, “a lifetime musician and traveller, and interestingly… the only father of the group.”  
Carey felt himself gulp at that but worked to repress any other reaction. Taylor was just trying to stay calm.  
“Our records indicate that you were all made sterile. But you’ve spent some more time in the laboratories recently. Were you given any further information on your abnormality?”  
“No,” Taylor took deep breaths, “they never told me anything they didn’t have to.”  
She paused at that before moving back to Damien.  
“Please,” Taylor called after her, “tell me they left my kids alone.”  
“Were you told of anything regarding his abnormality?” she asked Damien instead.  
“Like I said,” his brow rose, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”  
“You might change your mind,” her eyes went to the nearest gunman before walking back to Taylor.  
“Please tell me,” his voice softened with his desperation.  
“Your family was unharmed,” she had to double-check her profile, “but they are being monitored.”  
Taylor finally began to breathe a little easier.  
“Jesse Musgrove,” she gave him a nod, “rather, Sergeant Musgrove.”  
She held back a smirk before moving on to Alex.  
“And Alexander Bell,” she sighed, “top of your class until you began home-schooling in your teens. Excelling in computer sciences.”  
She paused.  
“I’m sorry about your mother,” it sounded heartfelt.  
“What happened?” Taylor frowned, unable to see the dismal look that Jesse could, “what happened to your Mom?”  
“You don’t have to say if you don’t want to,” Jesse assured him.  
Alex just nodded, choosing to stay quiet. Seeing that he was on the verge of tears Jesse reached over and took hold of his hand.  
“Gentlemen,” the woman took a step back so that she could address all of them, “you are all now aware that we’ve done our homework on each of you, delving deep into each of your past lives.”  
She paused to be sure she had their attention.  
“But they are just that. Past. It is my recommendation that you quickly forget everyone and everything you once knew. They are unimportant. Now that you are here, nothing else will matter.”


	4. Chapter 4

“The fuck does that mean?!” Mark demanded.  
“Готовят его,” the woman indicated Mark to the first gunman.  
“Can you just tell us where we are?!” Carey’s voice rose, “what do you want us for?! What deals have you guys made?!”  
“They didn’t deal,” Damien scorned, “we were kidnapped.”  
“And we’re not on American soil anymore,” Jesse agreed.  
“What are you doing?!” Carey demanded as two of the men converged on Mark.  
One of them removed the steel collar while the other unlocked the chain attaching him to Carey.  
“NO!” Carey’s voice rose and he struggled to lift his hands to his collar, “don’t take him!”  
“Оставьте его в первой ячейке в то время как хирург контактирует,” the woman waved her hand dismissingly, “но очистить его первым.”  
“И его рана?“  
“Оставьте его, пока мы не знаем, что он стоит оставить.“  
Mark was pulled to his feet and he instantly dug his heels in.  
“Tell me what you want or I’m not going anywhere,” he said between his teeth.  
“You’re mistaken,” the woman assured, “and you’re also injured. We need to see to that.”  
“Please keep us together,” Carey begged her, “at least until we know what’s going on.”  
“Вооружитесь ружье. Будь готов,” she turned to the third gunman, who raised his weapon a little.  
They all saw it.  
“Why am I being separated?” Mark frowned, trying a different angle, “why can’t I stay here?”  
“Someone needs to go first, that’s all,” the woman insisted, “the rest will follow shortly.”  
Mark and Carey locked eyes at that.  
“Be careful,” Carey’s brow furrowed.  
“Be calm,” Mark countered, knowing Carey was already on the verge of panic.  
They watched him disappear through the far doors, guided by the two gunmen. The woman appeared to wait for them to return. They were gone for a good fifteen minutes or so before returning sans Mark.  
“Ему следующий,” she pointed to Carey.  
Carey took deep breaths as they came for him, not saying anything as he was taken back through the same doors.

Mark had been handed over to two men in soldiers’ camouflage uniforms. He saw the keys to his shackles exchange hands, but knew he’d be no match for any one of them on their own let alone being outnumbered.  
He was led through what looked like a row of containment cells toward the end of another corridor. After turning left they approached the first door on the right which was already open.  
“Oh no,” Mark instantly groaned.  
He could see that it was a containment shower. But the only thing in sight aside from the three shower heads on the walls was a shelf on the nearest wall with a stack of green scrub-like clothing.  
“Fellas, this is getting a little too personal for me,” Mark tried to dig his heels in again, “why don’t you leave me to it and come back in five?”  
One of them gave him a shove forward and he tripped over the chain. Managing to catch his footing he glared back at the perpetrator.  
“You could have just said no.”  
“Становиться на колени,” he seemed to order.  
“What?” Mark’s brow rose, not falling for it.  
They knew very well that he didn’t speak their language.  
“Становиться на колени!” the man repeated before the other kicked in the back of Mark’s knees.  
He grunted as he fell, looking over his shoulder as one of them pulled clippers from one of his many pockets.  
“Seriously?” Mark winced, knowing Carey wasn’t going to like this.  
They took to his hair before quickly shaving his head clean. As he was pulled to his feet again one of them tugged at his jeans.  
“раздевать,” he ordered.  
Mark knew what they wanted, but he didn’t have to make it easy for them. He only second guessed that when one of them took hold of his left shoulder and he had to grimace at the pain.  
“Раздевайся, или мы истребим их,” he warned.  
“How many times do I have to tell you I have no idea what you’re saying?!” Mark frowned, “I mean work with me here! What do you want?!”  
“Take off your clothes,” the one standing aside was looking him up and down.  
“Finally. Now we’re getting somewhere,” Mark tried to reason.  
He took his time undoing his belt, wondering how to get his jeans off while his ankles were chained. He got his answer when the one standing aside pulled out some bigger scissors.  
“I take it I don’t get to keep these,” he muttered as he pulled the belt free.  
It was taken off him before the other came forward with the scissors to cut down his right leg. Not wearing any shoes or underwear Mark was suddenly very naked. Only the chains were left.  
He was pulled back under one of the showers before suddenly being hit with a cold blast that instantly took his breath away.  
“Сколько из них есть?“ he heard them talking.  
“еще шесть, я слышал.”  
“Мы должны сделать это еще шесть раз?“  
He felt his teeth starting to chatter before the water finally began to warm up a little.  
They roughly dried him with a large towel when it was over. The chains still weren’t coming off. When they were done one of the men took one of the green cloths from the shelf and they began to lead him out of the room.  
Mark covered himself as he was led back toward the row of cells, glad when they stopped at the very first one on the right. The door was open and ready, and once they stepped inside he finally saw the keys again.  
Once he was unlocked he was handed the green cloth before the door was quickly shut and heavily bolted. A porthole the size of a dinner plate was all he had to see out of, and one them looked through it to check on him before he heard them moving back down the corridor.  
A quick look around told him he only had a bed, a toilet and a basin. The cell was twice the size of the ones in Nevada but the walls and door were solid and he assumed the small black dome above the door was his surveillance camera.  
He sighed to himself as he began to pull the cloth apart so he could work out how to wear it. It looked like a basic hospital gown that was barely going to cover his privates. Once he had it on he went back to the door just in time to see Carey being taken past.

“WAIT! Wait!” Carey’s heart raced when he saw the clippers, “is this really necessary?! What could you possibly need to-“  
He yelped as the other one took hold of his hair, pulling it back well out of reach of his hands. In seconds the ponytail was gone.  
“Please don’t take it,” he shook his head when he saw the razor coming next.  
The other soldier knelt beside him and took hold of his chin and the back of his neck to keep him still. Carey could feel his eyes start to well up and tried to suppress it as best he could. He knew that hair was a silly thing to get upset over losing and it could always grow back, but it felt like another connection to Emma being severed.  
When it was done he was pulled back to his feet and they began to cut off his clothes. It somehow didn’t bother him as much as the haircut had. An extra hit came when they removed his wedding ring. As much as he fought, he couldn’t stop them from taking it.  
He actually relished some time under the water before being hastily dried off and taken back to the cells. He momentarily locked eyes with Mark as he passed his, before stopping at the next open doorway.  
“No,” he shook his head once he saw the cell, “no, no! Please don’t make me go in there!”  
“Calm down,” one of the men with him scorned, “you can sleep here.”  
“No you don’t understand!” Carey fretted as the two of them forced him inside, “please! I can’t do closed spaces! There’s gotta be somewhere else, please!”  
He yelped again as one of them pulled him into a somewhat gentle choke hold while the other worked to unlock his shackles. Once it was done he set the clothing on the bed and gave his accomplice a nod.  
“Please don’t leave me here,” Carey begged before he was let go.  
He was shoved backward as they went for the door, not making it back in time before it closed and locked on him.

“Оставьте это одно,” the woman indicated Damien once the two men returned, “возьмите следующий вместо.”  
They both eyed Damien, but instead went for Keandre.  
“Why did they skip me?” Damien demanded with a frown, “why am I being left behind?!”  
“Maybe that’s a good thing?” Taylor suggested as Keandre was pulled to his feet, “maybe we don’t want to go back there.”  
“But I bet we all do eventually,” Jesse reasoned, watching as Keandre was pulled from the room.  
He didn’t protest as his head was shaved, or even as they cut off his jewellery and removed his rings. As a result he was one of the fastest through and Taylor was surprised when they returned for him so fast.  
As he was taken through the cells he saw two of the clones looking out at him. Seeing their already shaven heads gave him a good idea of what was coming, but that wasn’t what he was suddenly struggling with the most.  
Mark was now the only one he could tell apart.  
He didn’t fight back as he was forced to his knees and they began to cut his hair. In the process his necklaces were also cut off, and they attempted to remove his wedding ring. Unlike Carey’s, it wouldn’t budge.  
“Это застрял на хорошее.”  
“How long have you had this?” the one not trying to remove it asked.  
Taylor paused to do a quick calculation.  
“Fifteen years,” he replied.  
“Мы должны удалить его позже.”  
Taylor was relieved when they seemed to let it go, pulling him to his feet instead. Suddenly one of the men began to look worried.  
“Где ножницы?“ he scowled to the other.  
“Вы должны были их.”  
“Теперь они ушли!“  
He looked around the shower area and went to check the shelves.  
“Take off your clothes,” the other one ordered Taylor, trying to keep on track.  
“How?” Taylor frowned, indicating his chained hands.  
“Могу поспорить, что в прошлом мудака есть их,” the worried man was becoming angry.  
“Я буду держать этот. Идите и проверьте.”  
Taylor flinched back when he felt him grab the chains, but the other one had headed for the door.  
He made his way to Keandre’s cell door which he quickly unbolted and threw open.  
“Дай их мне!“ he demanded, holding his hand out to Keandre who was sitting on the bed.  
Keandre only tilted his head, not seeming at all surprised by the intrusion.  
“Don’t play stupid,” the man warned, “give them to me.”  
Keandre’s eyes narrowed and he looked up to the camera. When the man didn’t move he openly displayed his empty hands.  
“Выходить,” he scorned, pulling Keandre up by the arm and starting to tear his bed apart.  
It didn’t take long to find the scissors underneath the head of the thin mattress. He slid them back into the pocket they came from before turning and laying a punch across Keandre’s left cheek.  
Keandre took the hit, staggering back a little, before he was thrown aside as the soldier left again. He didn’t bother going to the door as he heard it lock behind him.

Taylor was still standing with his wrists restrained when he returned and hastily began to cut off his shirt. Taylor grit his teeth and bore it as they began to work their way down.  
Once he got over the cold of the shower it was a welcome reprieve that didn’t last long. He was dried and taken back to the cells. He couldn’t even tell who he was put beside.  
As the men returned to the waiting room the woman indicated Jesse.  
“Оставьте его. Возьмите последний,” she ordered.  
“That’s not worrying at all,” Jesse said aloud when they went for Alex instead.  
“Jesse?!” he immediately panicked, forced to let go of his hand.  
“It’s okay!” Jesse assured, “you’ll be fine. You’ll find Taylor and Mark.”  
Alex didn’t look at all convinced. Jesse chewed on his bottom lip as he disappeared through the doors, unable to stop himself worrying for him.


	5. Chapter 5

“Этот будет идти дальше,” the woman indicated Jesse to the guard she’d been left with, “Мне просто нужно поговорить с ним. Другой будет идти на допрос.”  
The guard nodded and Jesse frowned.  
“What do you want from me?” he asked her straight out, “I can’t offer you anything.”  
“Are you bilingual?” she asked him with interest.  
“No,” he admitted right away, “but I know a few words from many languages. Comes with the job.”  
“Of course. Sergeant,” she nodded her head a little, “I just want to be clear with you that this institution and this project in itself will entirely disregard your past.”  
“I thought you made that perfectly clear,” his eyes narrowed.  
“Not just in respect of the project,” she tried to explain, “but in respect of our governments and their occasional… disagreements. I must assure you that the missions you undertook on Asian soils are of no interest to our military and therefore you are not a prisoner of war.”  
“You’re saying I’m not a political prisoner, I’m just a civilian prisoner,” Jesse concluded.  
“Correct.”  
“I’m not sure if you’re trying to say that it’s a good thing or a bad thing,” he admitted.  
“It will be less stress on you,” she assured, “as we will not employ any involved methods of questioning you about your missions.”  
“I guess that’s good,” he reasoned under his breath.  
“Your focus can remain entirely on this project instead,” she assured, “now that it has been said, you will go through next.”  
“What about me?” Damien asked her, showing a little more worry now.  
“As I have said, we have some questions for you,” she offered him a smile before adding some notes to the bottom of Jesse’s profile.  
Damien frowned at that before shooting a glance at Jesse.  
“You want to interrogate me, but not him?” he demanded, “you don’t think his knowledge is a little more valuable?”  
“Fuck you,” Jesse spat, closing his eyes.  
“To the right people,” the woman agreed without looking up, “but we here are much more interested in yours, as your knowledge pertains to this division of our research.”  
Damien grunted at that, trying not to think about what was coming.

The men soon returned to fetch Jesse. His induction ran smoothly until they tried to remove his wedding ring. He could feel the urge to outright attack them rising in his chest as they dared touch it, but he didn’t have to. Just like Taylor’s it wouldn’t fit back over his knuckle.  
“How long have you had this?” one of them tapped it.  
“Sixteen years,” Jesse replied, forcing himself to stay calm.  
Neither of these two had been in Tulsa, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t been in Louisiana. He still didn’t know who’d hurt her.  
He took everything else with patience and was soon placed in a cell. He could hear the low tone of one of the clones muttering to himself and hoped it wasn’t Alex in a panic. In actuality, it was Carey.

Damien took deep breaths as the soldiers returned to the room, trying to stay calm.  
“опрос,” the woman ordered, the clipboard falling to her side, “Я сообщу ему вопросы, и мы будем с Вами в ближайшее время. Идите вперед и начать.”  
Damien grunted as they finally removed the collar and he could lean forward, having been forced to sit up straight with it for nearly two hours now. He was pulled to his feet and taken toward the same doors.  
He ignored the faces in the windows as he passed the cells, figuring he would end up in one eventually. At the end of the corridor they turned right, soon stopping at a door to their left. It had to be unlocked and it was while this was happening that he realised the third guard had actually followed them. He was still holding his gun at the ready.  
Once the door was opened he was pulled inside. The other guards followed before closing and bolting the door behind them. In the middle of the darkened room was a chair covered in restraints and Damien knew it was where he was headed. His heart leapt into his throat.  
“Nothing I know is worth hurting me over, I swear,” he shook his head as they began to unlock his chains, “this is not going to be worth it.”  
“Answer the questions. You’ll be fine,” one of them responded.  
“What questions?!” he jumped on the fact that one of them at least knew English, “what does she want to know?!”  
He was roughly pushed down into the chair and they quickly began to strap in his wrists, ankles, torso and waist. He’d instantly noticed the grate the wooden chair sat over and his mind began going haywire with everything from possible electrocution to bloodletting methods.  
“Please don’t hurt me,” he shook his head as they finished up, “just tell me what you want!”  
He watched as they backed away, the gunman staying within the light that was focused on the chair while the other two stepped back into shadow. One of them went to a side wall where he turned some kind of wheel.  
Damien flinched as he felt a drop of water hit him on the head and it made him look up. It was as though he’d simply turned on a dripping tap. Damien worked to slow his heart rate as the water slowly continued to drip onto his head and shoulders, but it was hard with the three large men staring down at him.

“It’s just a kitchen or a small room, you can leave any time you want. The light is a skylight. You’re not naked you’re wearing a gown.”  
Carey was hugging himself, rocking a little as he tried to calm himself down.  
“It’s just like hospital. We all remember how that went. If you don’t calm down they drug you. Jesus Christ please give me a sedative.”  
“Care?!” he heard a call from somewhere to his left.  
Begrudgingly, it forced him to open his eyes. He felt the same icy fear in his chest when he laid eyes on the room again as he had when he’d first entered.  
“Mark?!” he called back, hoping it had been his twin.  
He tried to remember which cell he’d seen him in, but the last couple of hours were becoming a blur already.  
“Yeah!” the call came back, “there’s a vent!”  
Carey frowned as he tried to spot it. He hadn’t paid much attention to what was actually in the cell yet. He’d seen the amenities and that was it.  
“Where?!” he called back, not moving from where he was sitting on the floor against the door.  
“Under the basin!”  
Carey’s eyes shot to it, realising the plumbing for the cells must have made them mirror images. He pulled himself to his hands and knees and crawled over to it. When he tried to look through it he caught sight of a tiny bit of light with a moving shadow.  
“Hey,” he spoke up to let Mark know he was there.  
“You okay?” Mark asked him.  
“No,” Carey admitted, “I want out.”  
“You got me here, just focus on that,” Mark insisted.  
“I’m trying,” Carey insisted, “but I just want to know how long we have to stay here.”  
“You and me both.”  
“Emma must be worried. I didn’t even have time to call her,” Carey’s worry came through his voice.  
“She’s been here before, she’ll handle it,” Mark tried to reassure him.  
“I told her the mob was involved.”  
“Once she works out that the rest of them are gone too she’ll figure it out.”  
“I hope so,” Carey leant his head against the wall dismally, “they took my wedding ring.”  
“Why?” Mark frowned.  
“I don’t know. They took everything.”  
“Jesse’s not gonna take that well.”  
“I hope he gets at least one punch through,” Carey mused.  
“I hope he flattens one of them,” Mark returned.  
Carey smirked at that before sobering.  
“What do you think they want?” he asked him.  
He heard his brother sigh, and wondered if he was even going to answer.  
“I don’t know,” Mark admitted, “but I have a feeling we fucked up somehow. I don’t think these guys were supposed to know we existed.”  
Carey jumped as the lights suddenly went out.  
“Отбой. Идти спать,” a voice came over what sounded like an intercom system.  
“What the fuck does that mean?” Carey heard Mark mutter.  
“We don’t know what time of day it is,” he pointed out, “maybe it’s bedtime.”  
“They haven’t even fed us.”  
“I don’t know about you,” Carey pulled his knees in to his chest and sat back against the wall, “but I don’t feel hungry.”  
Alex had already been on the bed when the lights had gone out and he’d just closed his eyes. Maybe this time when he woke up the nightmare would be over.  
Jesse went to check his door, making sure there was no one in the hallway that was going to surprise anyone while they slept. He took note of the small LED lights that ran down the corridor which he assumed were for the night guards to see by before he walked back to the basin to wash his face. That done, he took up the bed.  
Taylor had also been sitting on the bed at the time, and he frowned at the announcement over the speakers. He was regretting not learning any Russian. He sat up for a while longer just twisting the wedding ring around his finger before eventually having to give in to sleep. He wasn’t sure the sedatives had entirely left his system and he wasn’t about to fight them when no one else was.  
Keandre took the darkness as an opportunity to explore more. He also went to the door to look outside and check that he wasn’t being watched before waiting patiently for his purple vision to kick in and beginning to feel out the cell. He quickly found the air vent under the basin and made a mental note to find out who was in the next cell whenever the lights came back on.

Damien had his eyes closed when he heard someone knocking sharply at the door. He had to force them open in order to see who was coming through. Shivers had well and truly set in, and the water only seemed to be getting colder.  
The woman had reappeared, along with a shorter, older man in a dirty lab coat.  
“Это Дамьен,” she appeared to introduce him as the three soldiers were dismissed.  
He saw her lock the door behind them as the doctor made his way into the light. Damien was struggling to take shaky breaths as he stared back at him.  
“Damien,” the man’s smile only made his voice sound more sinister, “welcome.”  
“Who are you?” his voice shook, more from the cold than fear at this point.  
“My name is Doctor Ivanovich, and I am with the research division of the Russian military,” he openly introduced himself, “but in a past life I interrogated prisoners of war on the front lines after Stalingrad.”  
Damien’s heart was immediately racing again.  
“You have a long night ahead young man,” the doctor looked him over, “I suggest you prepare yourself as best you can.”


	6. Chapter 6

“I wasn’t trained for this, I wasn’t trained for anything,” Damien insisted, “just tell me what you want to know and I’ll answer everything, I swear.”  
“You would betray your brethren openly?” the doctor raised a brow.  
“I can’t betray a team I was never on,” Damien shook his head, “I was never one of them. This is the first time I’ve been on the other side of the glass.”  
“Are you their original?” the woman was intrigued.  
“No. Their… our original is the older brother of one of them.”  
“Which one?” she pressed, getting her pen ready again.  
“Taylor Hanson,” Damien readily answered, “can you please turn the water off now?”  
“Is that why he can reproduce?” she ignored his request as the doctor just continued to stare, “because he is biologically linked to the original?”  
“It’s a working theory but probably wrong,” Damien squeezed his eyes shut, “technically we all are.”  
He wished he could hug himself. Being unable to bring his arms or legs in was letting the cold seep in to places he could usually keep warm. His thin white shirt and thicker grey slacks that he’d worn to bed back at the lab were well and truly soaked through.  
“Then why?” he heard her ask.  
He grunted as he felt the shakes getting worse, trying his best to concentrate on controlling them. So it made him jump when the doctor took hold of his chin to make him look up again.  
“Why can he reproduce?” she repeated her question, not bothered at all by his state.  
“It’s a flaw,” he barely managed to get out, “a reproductive flaw. All of us have one.”  
“Is that so?”  
His eyes lowered as the doctor let his chin go.  
“I would assume a visual example of this would be Keandre Moreau’s eye color, yes?” she asked.  
Damien nodded.  
“Can you give me more examples?” she readied her pen again.  
Damien groaned, closing his eyes again. He was finding it hard enough to think straight already. This time he yelped and kept his eyes shut as the doctor pulled his hair back instead, causing the water to fall directly onto his face. He struggled to breath properly until he let him go.  
“Can you give me more examples?” she repeated patiently.  
“Most of them aren’t visual,” Damien’s voice was reverting to a whine, “but Musgrove’s skin tone, Mark Miller’s hair, my dermatology… they all reverted back to the original sample.”  
“Let’s focus on your dermatology, while we’re talking visual differences,” she considered, “how are you different?”  
“My skin. The others have moles that I don’t.”  
“Okay. Now give me some examples of non-visual discrepancies between the clones.”  
“Please just turn the water off,” he begged softly, “I can’t concentrate.”  
“It makes it harder for you to lie,” the doctor said into his left ear, making him cringe away.  
He tried to take a few deep breaths.  
“Do I need to repeat the question?” the woman asked him, making him shake his head.  
“We have another clone, Reis. He underwent a surgery similar to one the original had,” he struggled to explain, “Mark has anger issues. We were still working out flaws in the others. We don’t know everything yet.”  
“I do have a profile for a Colin Reis,” the woman confirmed, “it’s a shame. He would have suited our purposes perfectly.”  
Damien wanted to ask what those were, but he couldn’t force his voice out.  
“Мне нужно поговорить с хирургом о лице Марка. Вы хотели бы продолжить здесь?“ she asked the doctor.  
He seemed to consider Damien before responding.  
“Мы не можем оставить его до утра. Мы подтвердим все, что он сказал нам тогда,” he seemed to shrug.  
The woman nodded before walking toward the door and beginning to unlock it.  
“Where is she going?” barely made it out of Damien’s throat.  
“It is time for us to rest for the night,” the doctor offered him a smile, “we will continue in the morning.”  
Damien felt a tiny bit of hope appear in his chest before the doctor turned toward the door and he realised they were planning to leave him there.  
“No,” he choked out, “please let me go! I answered everything! _Please_!”  
He let out a wail as the door closed behind them both, and for the first time in as long as he could remember he actually started to cry.

Mark jumped when the lights came on again. It wasn’t until now that he realised he’d fallen asleep sitting against the basin where he’d been talking to Carey.  
“Care?” he whispered through the vent, checking to see if he was still there.  
Instead of an answer, all he got was the sound of light snoring. Glad that Carey had finally been able to sleep he decided not to wake him. Instead he just hugged his stomach as it started to growl.  
Minutes later he heard the door being unbolted and wondered if it were breakfast. When the door opened to reveal two armed soldiers, he guessed it wasn’t.  
“Breakfast run?” his brow rose hopefully as they came in toward him.  
One of them took him by the right arm to pull him to his feet. The other stooped to lock shackles back onto his ankles and Mark’s eyes went to the door.  
“Oh,” he realised, “so… where are we going?”  
He was ignored. Instead they just pulled him toward the door, and he had to lean on them for balance as he walked.  
He was taken down toward the showers, but a few further doors down. He could see a bright light coming from the door they were aiming for, and he soon realised why when he got there. It looked like a makeshift surgery.  
Knowing it was most likely for his shoulder he began trying to figure out where they wanted him. They led him to the right of the table before helping him up into a sit, where one of them took hold of the chain between his ankles and used it to pull his legs up toward the end of the table. Almost losing balance Mark used his right hand to steady himself before feeling gentle hands on his shoulders pushing him down.  
What looked like a nurse aside from the camouflage pants and heavy boots held out his left arm as they untied the side of his gown and revealed the wound in his shoulder. Once it was free he felt the wrist being tied down to the side. His other had already been restrained by a soldier.  
“Хорошие татуировки,” he heard the nurse’s voice, though he didn’t know what she’d said.  
She quickly began to clean up the wound and prepare to give him stitches. He didn’t remember them removing the bullet, but figured they must have done it when they’d first bandaged him up in transit.  
The work was done in what seemed like no time, though his stomach had continued to growl all through it. Once the shoulder had been bandaged again the nurse took some time to study his facial scar, and Mark frowned as he began to wonder what the big deal was about it. He wasn’t given any further clues before the waiting soldiers were given the order to take him back to his cell.  
When he arrived back he found a tray waiting for him on the bed. Once the soldiers left he went to investigate.  
“What the Hell is this?” he frowned, looking it over.  
“Mashed up potato,” he heard Carey’s voice coming from the vent and realised he must have been sitting there again.  
He pulled a face but took the tray and went to sit by the vent himself.  
“Potato?” he grunted as he felt his shoulder pull when he went down.  
“Yeah. You know, you can live on potatoes,” he could hear that Carey was eating, “and butter I think. It’s got all that you need to survive.”  
“Bullshit.”  
“Well there’s nothing else, so I guess we’re about to find out.”  
Mark rolled his eyes and started using the plastic spoon to play with it.

Damien felt close to vomiting by the time the door opened again. He had no idea how much time had passed since the two had left. He hadn’t been able to sleep and his extremities had long gone numb. He was already praying to whoever would listen that he wouldn’t lose his fingers or toes or worse.  
He forced himself to look up when the same two entered again, followed by an armed soldier who locked the door behind them all.  
“Good morning Damien,” the doctor was the first to come close, “I’m glad to see you awake. You may drown if you sleep, you realise.”  
Damien didn’t respond, he just tried to keep his breathing even.  
“A little recap,” the woman’s voice came from just beyond the light, “you told us that each of the clones has a flaw. Is that true?”  
“Yes,” his voice came out husky, beginning to wish he’d just pass out.  
Maybe drowning would be easier than this.  
“And that these flaws were simply aspects carried over from the original DNA counterpart.”  
“Yes.”  
“Considering the process was to clone an original, why would you be anything but flawed?”  
Damien frowned as he tried to understand the question.  
“Why would you be different from your original?” she amended.  
“They weren’t cloning,” Damien said between breaths, “they were modifying, and trying to… trying to replicate the results to prove we weren’t flawed.”  
“So the experiment was a failure,” she concluded, “if you are all flawed, if only in small ways.”  
“Yes,” he closed his eyes again.  
”That does not sound promising,” the doctor turned to her before returning his gaze to Damien’s crown.  
“No it does not,” she agreed with him, “turn it off.”  
The doctor made his way to the wall where he took his time turning the water off. Damien groaned in relief before he could even feel any.  
“I can tell that you are not lying to us,” the woman stepped forward as he began his slow recovery, “but I wouldn’t like to find that you are hiding anything additional.”  
“Like what?” Damien shook his head, blinking as water still trailed from his hair down his face.  
“Something else that would help people tell you apart,” she amended before turning to the soldier with them, “будьте готовы подготовить его.”  
“You wanted us identical?” Damien frowned as the doctor rested a hand on his left wrist.  
He couldn’t help but gulp at the touch.  
“That’s what clones are supposed to be,” she mused, “however it seems that both genetic flaws and environmental factors have contributed to the seven of you turning out quite different. You are presenting us with a challenge, one unforeseen.”  
“Why would you want clones?” Damien frowned, slowly feeling his wits returning to him, “wouldn’t you have your own?”  
“That’s enough questions for now,” the doctor assured, giving his wrist a pat, “let’s get you some sleep.”  
Damien sighed gratefully at that.  
He was unstrapped from the chair and both the doctor and the soldier had to help him to his feet. Once he was steady and able to somewhat walk, the soldier led him from the room to where another was waiting outside. He heard the woman and doctor start to talk behind him in the room, but they were talking Russian and he couldn’t understand them.  
The two soldiers led him in the other direction down the hall to what looked like a shower. Hopeful that he could warm himself up, he did everything they asked of him. He stayed kneeling while they cut his hair and didn’t object when they cut off his clothes. He was glad once they were no longer clinging to him.  
The water was cold at first but not as cold as it had been in the other room. Once it warmed up Damien leant his head against the wall and hugged himself as he just let it fall over him and attempt to warm his core temperature. The soldiers left him there longer than they had any of the others, but it was eventually time to dry him off and take him to a cell.  
He pulled the gown on himself as they locked the door, spying a tray sitting on the bed waiting for him. Realising that it was food he moved it over to the basin before taking up the bed instead. Exhaustion took over and he was asleep in minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

It didn’t take Jesse long to find the vent in his room either, and he’d worked out that Alex was in the next cell over. But as much as he tried, Alex wasn’t big on responding.  
“If you want to talk about anything, I’m here,” he insisted, sitting aside the basin, “if you wanted to talk about your Mom, or…”  
“I’m okay,” Alex responded quietly from where he sat on the bed.  
He’d barely moved from it since he’d first been put in the cell. Partly because there was nowhere to go, and partly because he couldn’t see well without his glasses anyhow. He didn’t see the point.  
“You don’t sound okay,” Jesse hated to press him, but he really was worried.  
Alex rolled his eyes at that.  
“Please just leave me alone,” he softly requested.  
Jesse sighed at that, sitting back against the wall in silence. He couldn’t help if Alex didn’t want help.

Taylor had eventually found his vent, but there was no one in the cell next door. He couldn’t hear anyone unless they spoke with a raised voice by their door, and as a result he spent most of his time by his own door. Every now and then he saw someone pass the window in the opposite cell but he hadn’t been able to tell which clone it was. Whoever it was, they weren’t interested in communicating with him.  
Therefore the only contact he had with anyone was when his food was delivered, and none of the soldiers were interested in talking back. He wasn’t even sure if they knew English or not.  
He was fed the same basic thing three times a day and only given water. When he ran out of that, he drank from the basin. He couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than the American labs. On the one hand, they were leaving him alone. He also had a lot more room in the cell. But he had no one to talk to and he still hadn’t been given a clue as to why he was even there.   
Not having a clock anywhere wasn’t helping either. He could tell the end of a day when the lights went off but he’d already lost track of the days before thinking to keep count.

“Did they say anything to you when they fixed your shoulder?” Carey frowned from his spot on the floor.  
“You already asked me that ten times,” Mark rolled his eyes.  
“And I’ll probably keep asking,” Carey admitted, “just in case you remember different.”  
“They didn’t say anything. In English, anyway,” Mark amended, “she said something in Russian but it was only like two words so probably not the big explanation for why we’re here.”  
“Why would they go to all the trouble of finding us and grabbing us just to leave us here?” Carey frowned, “it doesn’t make sense.”  
“Since when does our own government make sense let alone someone else’s?” Mark pointed out.  
“Yeah I left that one open, didn’t I?” Carey scratched at his head.  
It was itchy where his hair was starting to grow back. Which was all over.  
“I’m starting to wonder if they only have us so that Morris can’t,” he admitted.  
“What like a land grab kinda thing?” Mark frowned, “didn’t he say we weren’t the first or last time they’d cloned somebody?”  
“And now Damien’s telling us there was more than twelve,” Carey added, “so Morris has definitely lied to us one way or another.”  
“I don’t get why you’d ever trust him in the first place,” Mark shrugged to himself.  
“When you’re only getting tiny bits of information at a time you tend to hold onto what you’re given,” Carey just shook his head, “we _wanted_ to believe. It didn’t matter whether we should have.”  
“Yeah,” Mark reluctantly agreed, “I can get that.”  
He sighed as he looked toward the door, wondering how long it would be until lunch. Food was the only thing breaking up their days. After a couple of early sleepless nights Carey had managed to somewhat settle in, and as long as Mark kept him distracted with conversation his panic attacks were becoming few and far between.  
Every time food was delivered to Carey he would ask the person bringing it how long they were going to be there, why they’d been brought there, and if they were ever going to leave. Nothing was ever answered. But the lack of answer didn’t stop Carey from trying.

Damien was the only one seeing more than food coming through his door for the first week. As a result of his interrogation he’d fallen ill, and at first he’d simply been left to work through it on his own. But when a week passed and he was only getting worse he eventually had some visitors.  
He’d just finished vomiting into the toilet and had flushed it when he heard the door opening. Two soldiers and the woman entered all wearing medical masks and gloves, and for a moment Damien panicked that they were going to take him back to the chair. Instead one of them took him by the arm to lift him back onto the bed and Damien just groaned as they checked his temperature. The woman took notes as Damien held his nose to stop it from running, before she gave one of the soldiers a nod and he pulled a needle from one of his pockets.  
“What is that?” Damien asked, not expecting an answer.  
He didn’t get one. They swabbed his shoulder before quickly injecting a clear substance. Damien didn’t resist. They were either going to cure or kill him and he wasn’t sure which he preferred at this point. When he didn’t feel any immediate reaction from the shot he assumed right away that it had been medicine.  
“You need to eat,” he looked up at the woman as she finally spoke to him, “you haven’t been eating.”  
“I know,” his eyes lowered again.  
He just hadn’t been hungry. He’d only eaten maybe two or three out of all the meals he’d been given. Not that they were particularly appetising.  
“You need more fluids. I will send for more and you will have them this afternoon,” she promised, writing some more, “drink them. They will help.”  
“Okay,” he wasn’t going to argue.  
“Мы сделали,” she spoke to the soldiers.  
They collected their things and escorted her from the cell. Once they were gone and the door closed again, Damien pulled himself from the bed and went to the basin to wash out his mouth and have a drink.   
The very next day he found he could suddenly breathe through his nose again.

Mark was expecting food a few days later, so when his cell door opened and four people entered he was taken by surprise. He stood from where he’d been sitting talking to Carey as the door closed behind them, and one of the two soldiers indicated for him to go to the bed.  
“Как вы можете видеть повреждение весьма обширен,” the woman was speaking to a male doctor who wore a surgical mask, “мы были обеспокоены тем, что не может быть поправимо.”  
Mark kept his eye on the soldiers as one of them pulled some shackles from a pocket. More curious than worried at this point he only watched as they were affixed to his wrists and ankles. One of them then stood on the chain so that he couldn’t raise his hands.  
Once he was restrained the doctor stepped closer. He put a gentle hand on his head and tilted it slightly so that he could look more closely at the scar.  
“Это будет очень много работы, но это может быть сделано,” he murmured as he studied.  
“Сколько?“ she asked.  
“Много сессий. Чем раньше мы начнем, тем лучше.”  
“И татуировки?“  
The doctor sighed as he let go of Mark’s head. Mark didn’t move as he raised the left sleeve of the gown instead and took hold of his upper arm. He locked eyes with one of the soldiers knowing instinctively that they were just waiting for him to make a wrong move.  
“Они также потребуется время. Какой ваш приоритет?“  
“Лицо. Сделайте это первым.”  
The doctor nodded before indicating to the soldier who was standing on the chain. He lifted his foot but instead took hold of the one connecting Mark’s wrists and raised his arms instead. He winced at the pull in his wound before feeling the doctor starting to undo the side of the gown. Once he had it open he gently pulled it forward over Mark’s arms before beginning to remove the dressing from his shoulder.  
“How long does this have to stay on?” Mark raised his brow at the woman, figuring she was probably the only one who knew English again.  
“As long as it is not infected, we will remove the stitches and it will not need to be covered again,” she assured him.  
Mark bit his lip as the rest of the bandage came free before he had to wait for the doctor to check him over.  
“Чисто.”  
“Good news,” she mused.  
“Great,” Mark muttered, beginning to wonder if it had been the only thing holding them back from revealing what they really wanted.  
“Получить его сложить,” the doctor looked toward the soldiers.  
“You need to lay down,” the woman informed him before anyone could move.  
“Do I need to be chained for this?” his brow furrowed as the doctor backed away.  
Without giving him a chance to move himself, the soldiers lifted the chains – and by proxy his feet – before twisting him so he landed on the bed with his feet toward the pillow. He had to keep his knees in thanks to the chain length but they didn’t seem to care if he was uncomfortable. The doctor only needed access to the wound.  
Mark heard the click of a small kit opening as the doctor bent toward the floor, before seeing him reappear above the bed with scissors and tweezers.  
“So we’re doing this now. Okay,” he said to himself, choosing to keep his eyes to the ceiling.  
The area where the stitches sat had mostly gone numb through the nerve endings being cut, but he could still feel the pull from around them. Thankfully it was over quick and after cleaning it up the doctor got up to leave.  
“Do not do anything to worsen it and it should heal quickly,” the woman insisted before following him.  
“Hey!” Mark called after her as the soldiers began to unlock the chains, “why does everyone keep looking at my face?! What’s the deal?!”  
She ignored him. With a grunt he stayed on the bed until the soldiers had also gone, before sighing and pulling himself over to the basin again where he knew Carey would be waiting for him.  
“What happened?” he asked once he knew Mark was there.  
“They just took the stitches out of my shoulder,” he replied.  
“And what was that about your face?”  
“I don’t know,” Mark looked toward the door, “but every time we see a new face they seem to be here to study mine.”


	8. Chapter 8

Taylor and Jesse, the only two who spent any time looking out their windows, were the only two who noticed when the clones had visitors. Every one of them had official passes around their necks and the majority of them were taking notes. None of them bothered to speak to the clones directly or even get close to a window, but occasionally they’d lock eyes with one and see a distinct mixture of curiosity, intrigue… and a little fear.  
Every time made Taylor feel a little worse. He was actually beginning to believe that they might be stuck here forever. Just fish in a bowl for people to look and prod at. He could understand the fascination with the idea of cloning, but he didn’t think his ‘group’ were really similar enough to exhibit the concept properly. Why couldn’t they have gone after someone else?  
Jesse was more intrigued with the visitors themselves and working out where they’d come from. Not all of them had military posture. The ones that did seemed to have varying rank and he began to assume that the others were merely medical staff being let in on a secret. Their ages ranged from mid-20’s to anywhere above and Jesse couldn’t help but wonder a few times if they were simply a new attraction in some kind of secret amusement park.  
The day eventually came when simply observing the clones through the portholes wasn’t enough to sate the visitors, and the woman who seemed to be in charge of their immediate division began to open a couple of cells. With soldiers on hand to restrain them and make sure the visitors were in absolutely no danger, the first cells she opened belonged to Carey, Taylor and Damien.  
Carey was first and he stepped out very hesitantly. He’d finally gotten somewhat used to the confines of the cell and he was worried he might be moved elsewhere. When he saw the waiting crowd he was only confused. The soldiers pulled him to the side so that he stood in front of someone else’s cell (he only knew it wasn’t Mark’s) before seeing two more emerge from a cell across the way with Taylor. Taylor eyed the visitors warily as he was taken across to Carey’s side of the corridor and made to stand about five feet away from him. Damien appeared from a cell to their left and he was told to stand five feet to Taylor’s left.  
“Они были оценены как наш самый тождественны. Проверьте их, если вам нравится,” the woman addressed the group of about ten.  
Carey looked over his shoulder to where he could see Mark looking through his window. He wondered why he wasn’t out here with them. But he was distracted when a much older man suddenly approached him and took hold of his chin.  
The visitor looked him over as Taylor watched on nervously. Carey struggled to keep his breathing even, unable to deflect the touch with his wrists shackled so low. He was staring very disconcertingly before looking Carey in the eye for a moment and letting him go. As Taylor had been dreading, he moved over to do the same to him as a woman stepped up to Carey instead.  
None of the three spoke a word as the people spoke Russian around them. When they were done with their inspection the woman indicated for the soldiers to open another cell. Both Taylor and Carey kept their eyes on them as they opened the next door, but Damien found himself caught in a staring match with the first man who’d touched him. He didn’t seem happy about something and Damien had no way of telling what it was. As such, the man’s stare only made him more and more uncomfortable.  
Taylor could tell that it had been Alex that was pulled out next, and he was taken over to Damien’s side. This time the two stood close and the visitors were invited to step forward to compare them.  
“Как вы можете видеть, из-за экологических факторов эти два легче отличить друг от друга. Этот человек не видел много солнечного света,” she was indicating Alex, who was standing with his shoulders hunched and his eyes downward, “но мы находимся в процессе коррекции этих нарушений, и мы должны увидеть улучшения в течение ближайших месяцев.”  
Jesse frowned from where he stood at his door. He wasn’t looking through the window but he could hear most of what was being said. His limited Russian was either making his translations worrying, or completely wrong. He hoped he was wrong.  
Carey and Taylor were dismissed first, quickly taken back to their cells as the visitors chose to study Damien and Alex further. They weren’t out for too much longer before being returned to their own.  
“What happened out there?” Mark was calling from the vent as Carey stood by his window to watch them leave.  
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.  
He waited until they were out of sight before heading back for the basin but he didn’t sit down.  
“They were studying us,” he began to pace a little.  
“Like how?” Mark frowned, “like Morris-type studying or wanting to pick you apart-type studying?”  
“Neither,” Carey hugged himself, “they were comparing us. Almost like we were up for auction.”  
“That’s not worrying at all,” Mark muttered to himself, his eyes going to his door.  
“I don’t think we were, if that helps,” Carey shrugged, “but I don’t know what it is either and that’s slightly terrifying.”

“Alex!” Jesse was trying to call through his vent long after everyone had gone, “Alex I need to talk to you. Please!”  
He heard movement from the bed and hoped Alex wasn’t going to just ignore him again, before seeing a shadow moving across the other vent.  
“What is it?” he heard Alex’s voice.  
“When you were out there, did you hear any of them say the words продажа or продавать?” Jesse asked.  
“I don’t think so,” Alex tried to remember, “I don’t know, there were a lot of words.”  
“What about сделка?” Jesse tried.  
“I don’t think so. Why?”  
“Just trying to work things out,” Jesse assured, “the more hints we get the closer we are to figuring out why we’re here.”  
“What does it matter? It’s not like we’re ever gonna leave.”  
“Why would you think that?” Jesse frowned, “we got away from Morris, didn’t we?”  
“That was different, and I never did. You guys did.”  
Jesse sat back against the wall and rolled his eyes. He understood that Alex was upset but he wasn’t sure how to counter his depression with fact and make it help.  
“It’s not different,” he tried to counter, “the only difference is the location. Maybe the military involvement. But that’s it. We’re still in the same old situation.”  
“Weren’t you in the military?” Alex asked suddenly, “can’t that help?”  
“I’m working on it,” Jesse’s eyes went to his door and up to his camera, still unsure if they were recording audio or not.

Mark was on the floor stretching his legs when he heard his door opening. Once again having been expecting lunch, he groaned when he saw more than one soldier making their way in.  
“What is it?” Carey’s voice came from the vent.  
“I got company,” Mark admitted, getting up onto his knees.  
“Встаньте,” one of them ordered, indicating for him to stand.  
Mark used his right arm on the basin for balance to pull himself up, still wary of using his left just yet. Once he was up they began affixing the shackles again.  
“So now what are we doing?” his brow rose, not expecting an answer.  
With no sign of the woman, he was right. He didn’t get one.  
He was pulled from the cell and led back down toward the showers. He wondered if he was going to get another one considering that first one had been it and all he’d had to use since had been the basin. But they walked him past it and toward the makeshift surgery again.  
This time, there appeared to be a lot more equipment. Waiting inside the room was the older doctor who he remembered removing his stitches, and the woman. Both wore surgical masks again.  
“What’s going on?” he directed his question toward her.  
The soldiers led him to the table, but when he eyed the extra restraints where his head was supposed to go he took hold of the edge and used his grip to stop them lifting him onto it.  
“Calm yourself,” the woman insisted, seeing his resistance, “we are here to help you.”  
“Bullshit,” Mark’s eyes went to her as the soldiers tried to pull him back, “what is this?!”  
“Получить его,” she insisted, the doctor standing back patiently to wait.  
Mark felt a boot hit the back of his right knee, and as it collapsed the soldier on that side managed to lift it from the floor. Mark grunted as he tried to keep his grip on the table but once they had his legs it was pointless. They managed to lift him onto the table, setting him down anything but gently. As they detached his ankles from his wrists one of them held his wrists up as the other restrained his ankles to the table, fixing straps across his knees, thighs, hips and chest before helping the other one with his wrists. It had taken more time than necessary but they weren’t taking chances in case he chose to fight back again.  
Mark took deep breaths as his arms and wrists were tightly strapped down, flinching as a couple of them pinched his skin. Once the soldiers were done the doctor finally came forward and Mark looked up in time to see him fixing a strap to hold his chin.  
“Don’t I at least get told what’s going to happen?!” his eyes went to the woman when she appeared at his left, “what are you going to do?!”  
“Relax,” she insisted, adjusting the light above him so that it focused on his face.  
As a result he had to close his eyes and didn’t have any warning as the doctor placed further strapping over his forehead and somehow anchored them to the right. The restraints held him firm but they quite obviously left his facial scar exposed.  
He tried to take deeper breaths as he began to realise he now couldn’t even move his jaw.  
The doctor ran a swab over the scar to clean the area of sweat and dirt before beginning to adjust his equipment.  
“This may hurt a little,” the woman warned, “but it will be worth it.”  
“For who?!” Mark demanded between his teeth.  
“For us all.”  
Mark heard the equipment turn on and a heavy hum take over the small room. Before anything else happened, the doctor slid a blindfold over his eyes. Mark’s fists clenched as he worried about what they didn’t want him to see before hearing another mechanical whir. At first he didn’t feel anything but a slight tingling sensation near to his left eye but that was soon overcome with a sudden intense heat.  
“You need to keep very still,” he heard the woman’s voice insist, as calm as ever, “we don’t want to do more harm than good.”  
Mark already debated that in his head, but it was hard to concentrate on anything but the burning.

It seemed to take forever, and when it was finally over he was left on the table to recover.  
“Теперь, когда вы знаете, сколько времени это займет?“  
“Не до тех пор, как я думал. Еще три сессии, может быть, четыре.”  
Mark tried to ignore their talking over him, just waiting for them to remove the blindfold before anything else could happen to him. When it finally came off he could hear the woman going to the door to call for the soldiers again.  
The doctor began to release the strap around Mark’s head, but he insisted they wait some more before letting him up from the table.  
“What are you doing to my scar?” he looked up tiredly at the woman as she’d stood aside to wait.  
“With any luck,” she mused, “three or four more sessions and you’ll no longer have a scar to speak of.”


	9. Chapter 9

“Are you serious?” Carey demanded.  
“That’s what she said,” Mark had collapsed beside the basin again.  
“But why? Why would they…?” Carey trailed off as his mind began to work, “those people were comparing us. They _want_ us to look more alike.”  
“Bingo,” Mark confirmed, feeling like he could fall asleep then and there.  
“This is insane,” Carey’s brow rose, “why do they even want clones?! What would they do with us if we all end up looking identical?”  
“That’s the big question now, isn’t it?” Mark agreed.  
“What would they want us to do?” Carey’s eyes were darting, “it’s gotta be like covert ops or something, right?”  
“Maybe Jesse has an idea,” Mark suggested, “too bad we can’t talk to him.”  
“Yeah…” Carey agreed, hugging his knees.  
“This has to end sometime, right?” Mark broke the short silence, “like we can’t stay here forever. They don’t just want me pretty because they want to show us off.”  
“It’s gonna end,” Carey insisted, “it has to.”  
“Good,” Mark sighed, closing his eyes.  
He’d just needed vocal confirmation. Carey on the other hand was beginning to wonder if it were entirely true.

“How do you know the Russian that you do?” Alex asked.  
“We were stationed… I mean we were working with some Russian marines at one point. They taught us a few things,” Jesse replied, just glad that Alex was talking.  
“How long were you deployed?”  
“On and off, a good few years. We agreed to wait to start a family until I took an early retirement.”  
He didn’t think he could regret that decision any more than he did now.  
“Sorry.”  
“It’s okay,” Jesse assured, not wanting him to feel bad.  
Alex had only really started talking again once he’d realised Jesse had lost someone too. He didn’t want to put him off if he could help it.  
The sound of boots in the corridor made him look up to the door.  
“Be right back,” he promised before getting to his feet.  
“What is it?” Alex asked, hearing him move away.  
Jesse went to the door, seeing a group of about six soldiers passing by. Before they could get far he tapped on the window with his fingernail.  
“Привет!“ he called out, “hey! Excuse me! In here!”  
He heard a couple of them laugh, but one of them did make his way over with a smirk on his face.  
“Что вы хотите, крыса?“ he looked far too smug.  
Jesse’s eyes narrowed as he recognised the slur he’d used.  
“Khyber Pass,” he made sure he said clearly.  
“Что это значит?“  
“Tell your friends,” Jesse indicated the other soldiers, “and you call me that again, we’ve got a problem.”  
The soldier’s eyes narrowed as he obviously had trouble with his English, but he smirked and walked back to his group. Jesse watched them go before making his way back to the basin.  
“What was that about?” Alex had only heard part of it.  
“Never mind,” Jesse insisted, “how was breakfast?”  
“You’re really going to ask that every day, aren’t you?”  
“You bet I am,” Jesse mused, “gotta do something to keep myself entertained.”  
“Well it sucked. Just like every other meal in this place. If you ever do get us out of here I’m never eating potatoes again.”  
“Don’t blame the potatoes, it ain’t their fault,” Jesse pointed out, “cherries don’t get the blame for medicine.”  
“That’s a weird way of looking at it.”  
“Works, don’t it?”  
“I guess we’ll find out someday. If we’re lucky.”

The fourth time they were pulled out of their cells to be shown off to visitors, Taylor noticed Carey looking more worried than usual. Fed up with not having anyone to talk to in his cell he decided to go against his instinct that told him to stay quiet in their company.  
“Hey,” he got Carey’s attention, “what’s wrong?”  
Carey looked over at the group worriedly. He’d spoken low enough for the woman and her group to not hear, but the soldiers guarding them were already paying attention.  
“Mark hasn’t come back from surgery,” Carey admitted, keeping his voice quiet.  
“Surgery? Taylor frowned, “what surgery?”  
He was sure it had been weeks. His shoulder should have healed by now.  
“They’re reducing his facial scar,” Carey’s eyes went back to the woman as she looked over her shoulder, “so he looks more like us.”  
Taylor’s frown only deepened at that before he was distracted by the group moving over to them.  
The viewing went along as usual, Alex eventually being pulled out to compare to Damien again. Taylor recognised Jesse watching from his window at one point before both Alex and Damien were taken back to their cells. Frowning because he and Carey usually went first, Taylor shot him a glance as one of the escorting soldiers led the group out through the entrance.  
The woman stayed behind. She waited until they were well and truly gone before giving the guards a nod.  
“Бейте их.”  
“What?” Taylor didn’t know why he expected her to repeat it in English.  
It became obvious what she’d said when the soldiers each pulled a baton and Taylor was hit across the back while Carey was hit in the back of the leg. Both fell to their knees with a cry of pain.  
“Нигде видимым,” the woman spoke to the guards again, Taylor looking up as one paused with his baton raised, “мы никому не нужны, чтобы увидеть ушибы.”  
The soldiers each nodded before the batons came down again.  
“Jesus Christ I’m sorry! I’m _sorry_!” Carey cried out as he was hit in the hip, the shoulder and the side before falling sideways onto the ground.  
Neither he nor Taylor were able to shield themselves while they were still chained. The woman stood by in silence as the soldiers verged on breaking bones, before eventually calling them off. Taylor looked over to see if Carey was okay though he’d been barely able to move himself. Carey was trying to catch his breath as he tried to shield his head, his toes curled in so tight it was painful to see.  
“We can’t have you disrupting our patronage,” the woman stepped closer to them, making Taylor look up again, “they are not here to hear you, only to see you. You have no business making them uncomfortable.”  
“I swear I didn’t even think,” Taylor shook his head, trying to pull himself up.  
“We won’t do it again,” Carey’s voice was small, sounding like he was hurt really badly.  
“I was just worried about him, and I wanted somebody to talk to!” Taylor defended, “I can’t deal with this isolation, it’s doing my head in!”  
“It’s unfortunate, but necessary,” she looked Taylor in the eye.  
“Why?!” he frowned, “why are you keeping us here? What do you people _want_?!”  
The woman gave the soldier beside him a nod and Taylor looked up in time to duck the baton again. It hit him in the hip and he had to cry out at the pain. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to be able to walk after this.  
Carey had looked up in time to see it and he gulped as he tried to get a hold of himself.  
“Enough questions,” she looked between the two of them as Taylor tried to recover, “return to your cells. You will not be fed tonight as punishment.”  
Taylor wanted to ask why a beating hadn’t been punishment enough but was officially afraid to open his mouth again. Carey was pulled to his feet first and half dragged back into the cell where he was unchained and left to find a way to sit on the bed that didn’t hurt. Once he was locked in they came to help Taylor’s guard with him because he was definitely having trouble walking. They moved him inside and onto his bed as well where he collapsed and waited for the chains to be removed. They took their time as if to make sure he wasn’t faking it before locking his door on their way out. He looked up to see the woman peering in on him before he heard her heels walking away.  
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, his hands going to his left hip where it hurt the most.  
Carey had to wait a little longer for Mark’s return, but he couldn’t bring himself to move from the bed and Mark couldn’t quite hear him from there so he decided he’d have to tell him what had happened later on.

“That was intense,” Jesse sighed as he sat near the basin again.  
“What happened?” Alex frowned worriedly.  
“A couple of them got in trouble, I’m not sure who. One of them sounded like Taylor though,” he replied, “it doesn’t look good.”  
“What did they do?”  
Jesse paused, not wanting to scare him.  
“Just gave them a warning, that’s all,” he replied, “don’t worry about it.”  
“It didn’t sound like a warning.”  
“There’s different kinds of warnings,” Jesse shrugged, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“How does it look?” Carey asked the following morning once he'd been able to move himself back to the basin.  
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen a mirror since we got here,” Mark shrugged, “I hope it’s working though, it’s taking a lot out of me.”  
“Is that normal?” Carey frowned.  
“I have no idea.”  
He paused, picking at his fingernails.  
“I think once they’re done with my face they’re going to start on my tatts,” he frowned, “not sure how that’s going to work for them.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I mean they want us to be identical again, right? But every tatt removal I’ve ever seen has left scarring. So I’ll just be covered in scars instead.”  
“Maybe they have a plan for that?” Carey suggested, “especially if what they’re doing to your face is working.”  
“I guess I’ll find out,” Mark sighed, leaning his head back against the wall.  
Every piece of his body art meant something to him, and while there was one or two he wouldn’t mind being rid of the thought of losing them all was already starting to make him question his identity.  
But he guessed that was the point.

Taylor had to pull the gown apart to find the bruising, but once he knew where they were he was sure he could almost see them through the material. He assumed his lack of diet and stimuli had something to do with how fast and severe they’d formed, but he also knew he’d been hit pretty hard.  
The other result of his beating was that every time he heard a soldier’s boots go past the door he became suddenly hyperaware. As long as they kept going he was able to calm himself down, but even when they brought him food he was very wary of their true intentions and tried to stay out of their way as best he could.  
This particular time he’d heard two soldiers along with the woman’s heels. Knowing she would bring him nothing but torment he was glad when they bypassed his cell and headed further down.  
“What now?” Alex looked up when he heard them coming.  
“I don’t know,” Jesse replied, before realising they were stopping at his door this time.  
He leant against the wall to pull himself up as the door opened and the woman entered. Unusually, the guards flanked her instead of coming inside to restrain him first.  
“Sergeant Musgrove,” she gave him a short nod before holding a black satellite phone out toward him, “you have a phone call.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Sergeant Musgrove. This is Deputy Sheridan with US Homeland Security. I sincerely hope that you and your friends are unharmed.”  
“Deputy Sheridan,” Jesse took the phone back to sit on the bed with, “it’s good to hear your voice. What can you do for me?”  
The woman was waiting by, not looking at all happy.  
“Well it’s going to take some time and a lot of going back and forth between us but if all goes well we’re hoping to have you out of there by the end of the month.”  
“Sounds great. But I hope you mean all seven of us and not just me.”  
“I’ll see what I can do. This is a hell of a favor you’ve called in.”  
“I don’t see it that way,” Jesse considered, “when have I ever asked before?”  
“About that. We might have some problems when you return to American soil,” Sheridan warned, “you neglected to mention there was a warrant out for your arrest. Care to clear that up for me right now and save some paperwork?”  
“I’m sure these guys could help you with that,” Jesse cast a glance toward the soldiers, “I didn’t have anything to do with it but if I have to take the fall for it I will just to get us home. Say what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”  
“I’ll get back to you on that.”  
“Much obliged, Sir.”  
“Sit tight, keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”  
“Thank you Sir.”  
“No, thank _you_.”  
Jesse ended the call and handed the phone back to the woman without a word. She waited to see if he would say anything before turning on her heel and leaving. Jesse waited until he heard them heading down the corridor before returning to his spot beside the basin.  
“What on Earth was all that?” Alex sounded bewildered.  
“We’re going home,” Jesse sighed thankfully, “…eventually. We just gotta survive another couple of weeks at the most.”  
“Did you have to use the word ‘survive’?”

Mark closed his eyes. He almost could have fallen asleep if it weren’t for the pain on his cheek. Each session reminded him of how painful it actually was, yet as soon as he made it back to his cell he figured it hadn’t been so bad.  
He’d just finished his fourth session and was waiting to be released from the table. The doctor pulled the head straps free as a soldier began to release his arms and torso, but he waited a little longer before bothering to sit up this time.  
He looked up when he heard the woman clearing her throat.  
“Would you like to see?” she offered, holding out a small makeup case.  
Mark wasn’t sure if he did or not, but he sat up all the same. He took the case from her and opened it but paused before looking into the mirror.  
With the amount of clones in near proximity he thought it was a trick at first, but he gently touched and moved the cheek as he tried to get a better look. He studied it as long as they let him before she indicated that she wanted the mirror back.  
“Now what?” he gave her a worried look.  
“If we are able to we will take care of these next,” she begrudgingly indicated his body art, “we just need to wait for approval first. There will be people in to see you over the next few days to make sure your face heals properly.”  
“Thank you,” Mark wasn’t sure if he should thank her or not, but it seemed the right thing to do.  
She just nodded while the doctor watched on as the soldier began to free his ankles from the straps. Once he’d slipped from the bed the shackles went onto his wrists again and he was led back to his cell. He couldn’t wait to tell Carey about what he’d seen.

Taylor flinched as he threw cold water onto one of the yellowing bruises on his side. It was so large he was surprised there weren’t any broken ribs underneath it but it did only hurt the skin when he breathed. Considering how hard they’d gone for he and Carey he wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been broken bones, but he considered himself lucky this time.  
He hoped Carey had been as lucky, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to ask.  
They suddenly went a long time without visitors and Taylor wondered if the gap was so they could recover. They wouldn’t want to show off faulty product after all. Or maybe they’d run out of interest. Either way he was glad for the reprieve, it meant he could sleep off his injuries for longer.

Jesse was already standing by the door when the woman returned to his cell. He stepped back voluntarily so that he wouldn’t need to be restrained before she made her way in and handed him the phone without saying anything.  
“Yes?” he answered, turning back into the cell.  
“Sergeant Musgrove, this is Deputy Sheridan again.”  
“Was beginning to think you’d forgotten about us.”  
“Of course we hadn’t. Just a few hiccups. I’ve sent someone over there to explain.”  
“Who?” Jesse frowned, “I wouldn’t think there’d be any record of this.”  
“Don’t worry, we had to send someone for on the ground negotiations. You’ll be transferred into his custody and returned to the States as soon as possible.”  
Jesse looked up when he sensed the soldiers moving aside. The woman looked back as Morris was escorted into the cell.  
“Mr Musgrove,” he was beaming, “so glad to see you in one piece.”  
“I guess he’s there already,” Sheridan said into the phone, “he’ll explain everything. Good luck Sergeant.”  
“Yeah thanks,” Jesse frowned before ending the call.  
“May I have a word in private?” Morris addressed his question to the doctor.  
She nodded in return before beckoning to Jesse. He handed the phone over before she and the soldiers took their leave. Morris waited until the door was closed.  
“What hiccups was Sheridan talking about?” Jesse demanded right away.  
“Your transfer,” Morris offered openly, “as a part of one of our projects, you boys are technically US government property. Your DNA belongs to us. When you were stolen the crime became an international incident and we’ve spent a long time trying to clean up the mess. We knew where you were of course but we were unable to make any formal approach until your message came through. Thank you for that, by the way. You made it a lot easier once the right people began to realise just who you were and how important you are to our homeland.”  
Jesse watched him pace as he explained.  
“Your trip home will not be immediate, however. The seven of you need to be officially transferred into our custody, then we need to take you home to Dallas, and we’ll sort things out from there.”  
“And what happens to Alex?” Jesse asked, “what happens to me… if we go with you?”  
“I guarantee the safety of both Alex and yourself,” Morris looked him in the eye as he said it, “you are doing myself and my entire employ a great service by turning yourselves in. We only wish to help in return.”  
“I don’t believe you,” Jesse said straight out, “but I know this is going to be what it takes to get us out of here, so I’m going to play along.”  
“I understand, and I appreciate it,” Morris conceded.  
“What do you need me to do?” Jesse was ready.  
“Like you said,” Morris turned to leave, “play along.”  
He knocked on the cell door so they would open it and let him out. Jesse heard he and the woman talking as they walked away and wondered how long he’d have to wait.

It was after they’d been given their third meal of the day that they heard a commotion in the corridor. Mark’s cell was the first to open and he was nervous when he stepped out. Not only was he unrestrained for the first time, but the corridor was full of soldiers.   
It didn’t take long to spot Morris and his expression completely changed from one of worry to one of determination.  
Carey was the second released and he too emerged warily. When he looked to the right and saw his brother for the first time he couldn’t help but stare.  
“Hey,” Mark greeted him, scratching at his arm pacifyingly before nodding toward Morris.  
Carey spotted him just as Damien emerged from his cell.  
“Morris?” his brow furrowed in surprise, “what are you doing here?”  
“I’m here to claim you on behalf of the United States,” Morris assured, walking over to him.  
“Thank God,” Damien closed his eyes as Morris slid a hand around the back of his neck.  
Damien leant into him in a sort of half-hug, which caused both Carey and Mark to pull faces. They were distracted by yells from the next cell along and Mark couldn’t help but smirk when a soldier emerged with a bloodied face.  
“Маленький засранец сразил меня!“ he wasn’t happy, turning back to watch as Keandre was practically wrestled out of the cell.  
When he saw their company he paused. Both Mark and Carey saw the blood on his hand but couldn’t see any wounds on him.  
“Keandre,” Morris addressed him directly, “mon nom est docteur Morris et je suis ici pour vous ramener chez vous. Calmez vous s'il vous plait.”  
“Facile à dire pour toi,” Keandre scorned.  
Another soldier emerged from Keandre’s cell holding one of the plastic spoons they were given with their meals. It had been sharpened into a makeshift blade.  
“You made a shiv?” Mark’s brow furrowed incredulously as Carey contained a chuckle.  
“I make three every day,” Keandre shrugged, confused at why they were surprised.  
Taylor made an appearance while this was going on, taking one look at Morris and trying to back into the cell again.  
“Oh no!” he insisted, “NO! I’m not going with him!”  
“Taylor-“ Mark was about to walk over before one of the soldiers stood in his way.  
“Leave him, he’ll come around,” Morris assured, indicating for the next cell to be opened.  
Jesse had been ready and waiting. He stepped out to take his place in the corridor, not expecting Morris to immediately approach him.  
“You might want to have a talk with Taylor,” he nodded toward his cell.  
Jesse just nodded before heading for it.  
“Wait,” Morris insisted as they were about to open Alex’s door.  
“Tay?” Jesse stopped in the doorway when he saw him pacing toward the back.  
“I can’t go with him,” Taylor shook his head, “what if I don’t get out this time? What if this was their plan all along?! I can’t get back on this stupid hamster wheel! I want my life back!”  
“Right,” Jesse agreed, “but the only way to do that is to suck it up and come with us.”  
Taylor paused, staring back at him.  
“You did this?” he frowned.  
“Sort of. Morris was a surprise,” he shrugged, “but it looks like our only way home and I think that if Alex and I can deal with it, you can too.”  
“Where is he taking us?”  
“Dallas. Just to regroup, then you should be on your way.”  
Taylor started biting his nails before hesitating when he realised what he’d said.  
“What about you?” he asked.  
“I got things to answer for,” Jesse shrugged, “I just want to concentrate on getting you guys home. So let’s go, huh?”  
He offered a smile before leaving the cell. As soon as he did Morris gave the nod for them to let Alex out.  
“You may need to do that again,” Morris warned Jesse as Taylor finally appeared at his door.  
Jesse sighed and stepped over to the cell. Alex had appeared once the soldier had beckoned to him and it didn’t take long for them to realise that he couldn’t see that Morris was there without his glasses.  
“Alex?” Jesse put a hand on his shoulder.  
“It worked?” he guessed, able to see Mark and Carey standing across from them.  
“It did,” he assured, “we’re going home.”  
Alex didn’t look particularly happy about it already, and the twins noticed.  
“Just one catch, okay? But it’s gonna be fine.”  
“What?” Alex frowned, looking across at him.  
“Morris is here to get us.”  
Alex grabbed hold of Jesse’s gown and he instantly began working on calming him down.  
“So what are you doing here?” Mark chose to distract Morris instead, “I take it you’re here to bring us home and you’re not just visiting.”  
“Correct,” Morris assured, Alex panicking again at the sound of his voice, “we’ll be leaving once we have everyone together.”  
“I need my things,” Carey looked to the woman who was standing silently by, “you took my wedding ring. I want it back.”  
“You’ll get it,” Morris assured him, “Jesse?”  
“We’re good,” he had his arm around Alex’s shoulders.  
Alex was wiping away tears.  
“Good,” Morris smiled, “if you’d all like to follow me, we’ll finally take you boys home.”


End file.
